


I don't wanna walk alone (so let’s get married)

by portraitofemmy



Series: Queliot Week 2020 [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dancing, F/F, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitofemmy/pseuds/portraitofemmy
Summary: Queliot Week Day 2: “We're married” + LoveA wedding in the mountains and a heartfelt conversation.
Relationships: Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Queliot Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017262
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119





	I don't wanna walk alone (so let’s get married)

**Author's Note:**

> Day two of Queliot week! I don't have another one for you tomorrow, check back on Thursday. 
> 
> Big big thanks to **propinquitous** and **hoko_onchi** for the cheerleading and beta reading.

Julia and Kady get married in the mountains.

It’s a compromise. Kady wants to _be_ married, but she hadn’t really wanted a wedding at all. She’d wanted to elope just the two of them, and throw a wild party after. Julia’s family would have gone into open warfare over that, though, so: compromise. Small, by the standards of Julia’s family, a small wedding at a ski resort in Vermont in the fall. It had been a _beautiful_ ceremony, all red and rust and gold, Julia in her cream colored lace dress and Kady in a suit— very beautiful, and very gay.

Quentin had cried, but honestly, that was pretty much to be expected.

He’s not crying now. 

No, now he and Julia are out on the dance floor, both of them flushed and laughing, doing some kind of dance that involves a hell of a lot of hip-thrusting. It’s— really extremely cute, and totally embarrassing, which is probably why Margo’s got her phone where she’s sitting next to Eliot, recording them.

“I’m going to keep this to blackmail him,” Margo mutters under her breath, and Eliot laughs, leaning into the arm he has spread along the back of her chair.

“I don’t think blackmail works if half a dozen or so other people also have video of the event in question,” he says fondly, gesturing around the room where their friends, coworkers, and fourty or so of Julia’s closest relatives are also watching this amazing display of dexterity and dorkiness. 

“You still don’t understand that my relationship with Quentin is based mostly on embarrassing him?”

“Embarrassment and nerdy books,” Eliot agrees, watching fondly as Quentin and Julia push their butts together. “How drunk do you think he is?” 

“To be dancing like that? Oh, El, your boy is _toasted_.”

Eliot snorts, taking another sip of his own champagne. He’s spent a lot of today watching Quentin, relegated as he is to the role of attendee while Q’s swept up in wedding party duty. Thank god for Bambi, honestly, or Eliot would never have survived the day. There is a certain delight to looking at Quentin in his unusually well-tailored suit, though, the burgundy jacket which matches Julia’s sister’s bridesmaid dress and brown pants which hug along his strong thighs and cup his tight round ass perfectly, _delicious_. He’d had a brown-and-gold-accented tie at one point, but it’s abandoned somewhere up at the bridal table, vacant now that all of its occupants have spilled out onto the dance floor. 

The makeup of the bridal party had been another major point of contention, Eliot knows from sitting on the periphery of Quentin’s stress for months. At one point, Quentin was going to be standing up with _Kady_ , with Julia’s tradition-oriented mother protesting his role of best man. Kady had pushed back on it, through, and they’d settled into another compromise: a bridesmaid and a best man each. Quentin got his place back at Julia’s side, sharing it with her sister, and Kady got Harriet and some guy Eliot _literally_ had never met until three days ago. 

Turns out Kady actually has a lot of friends and coworkers she never introduced to her grad-school friends. None of them exactly knew how to take that.

“Do you ever think about how incestuous our friend group is?” Eliot muses, looking around at the groups of people filtering out onto the dance floor now that the weird-thrusting-dance performance is over. He can pick out individuals he knows, but really there’s more he doesn’t, and only half of them are Julia’s relatives. 

“You mean the fact that Quentin’s ex-girlfriend is now sleeping with his best friend’s new wife’s ex-boyfriend? That’s just grad school, babes.” Margo shrugs.

Alice and Penny, along with Josh and his date for the evening, rounded out their little circular table of six. Julia had been kind enough to put them all together, at least, rather than scattering them around the reception hall. Penny and Josh disappeared not long ago, probably to go smoke up somewhere, which Eliot should be mildly offended about not being invited along to, honestly, but whatever. Alice is off talking to one of her and Kady’s coworkers, and Josh’s date— Jen? Ren? Fen?— is feeling herself over on the dance floor, near where Quentin and Julia are dancing like actual humans again, twin smiles and bouncing brown hair. 

“You’re all frowny,” Margo cuts into Eliot’s reverie, nudging him with the toe of her shoe. “Are you feeling abandoned?”

“Of course not,” Eliot lies, pulling himself back to smile at her, arm sliding off the back of her chair to rub her shoulder fondly. “It’s Julia’s night, of course he should be with her.”

“Uh huh,” Margo says, too knowing. “Come dance with me until he’s free, you’re going to give yourself wrinkles with all this pouting.”

“How dare you,” Eliot gasps, but it takes zero persuading, really, to get him standing, tugging down his vest as he follows Margo out onto the dance floor. She’s perfectly on theme, of course, in a beautiful two piece red dress, her hair in a soft pile on the top of her head. Even in her heels she barely comes up to his shoulder, but she fits so well against him, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Sighing, Eliot settles on arm around her torso, her small hand folding into his as they settle into rhythm. 

“I don’t think my chances of getting laid tonight are very good,” Margo muses as they move together perfectly in sync with the boppy mid-aughts pop song, letting Eliot spin her in a circle under his arm. “None of Julia’s mid-Atlantic cousins seem like the right kind of repressed.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think if you played your cards right, you could have a chance with Josh’s date.”

Margo laughs, swaying into him and then out again with the beat of the music. “See, this how the incestuous friendgroup thing happens. I fuck my ex-fuck-buddy’s new sex friend, and then everything gets messy.”

“I guess you _could_ fuck Josh _and_ Ren—”

“Fen.”

“Yeah, her. You could do both, if that’d be your flavor of weird.”

Margo makes a face, sliding up to settle against Eliot’s chest. “But we’re over Josh.”

“Oh, we are?”

“Yes.”

“M’kay,” Eliot hums, dropping his chin down to rest on top of her head, feeling just— slightly buzzed, and really exceptionally fond of her. Ten years ago, a night like this probably would have ended with them falling into bed together. Honestly, it could still go that way, if Q’s in the right mood, but— The way Eliot loves Margo’s changed, since they were 21 years old, sparkling beautiful disasters chasing tragedy. Ten years ago they would never have ended up at a wedding together at all, not close enough to anyone but each other to be considered _family_. Margo shows her love through sex, and Eliot is— still touch-hungry, always, but they’re more than that now. Just holding her to dance, because he loves her, is special enough. It’s a complete thought by itself.

The song changes, winding down to something slow, and their movements slow accordingly, Margo’s arm winding up over Eliot’s shoulders, around to play with the short hairs at the back of his neck. He smiles down at her and she matches it, that real, happy smile that’s just for him.

“Can I cut in?”

A warm familiar hand falls on the center of Eliot’s back with the words, and they both look over to see Quentin, still flushed and smiling, his newly cut hair flopped over into his face. Eliot’s heart, _still_ , after _years_ , skips with excitement at the sight of him. 

“I dunno— What are you gonna give me for him?” Margo asks, mocking, fingers curling into the armholes of Eliot’s vest as though to demonstrate her claim physically.

“A goat,” Quentin responds immediately. Too fast, honestly, for this not to be a standing joke he’s not privy to. Eliot squints suspiciously between them as Quentin snickers. “And a kiss.”

“Hmm, deal,” Margo agrees, letting go of Eliot to move into Quentin’s space. And kiss him she does, soundly— open mouthed and dirty. Quentin’s all giggly and pinked up when she lets go of him, listing easily into Eliot’s arms. But Margo’s smiling, too, giving them both her fondest look. “Maybe I will go see if Fen’s feeling neglected, after all.”

“Chew gently!” Eliot calls after her, earning himself her middle finger and another giggle from Quentin. It’s enough to redirect his attention, anyway, to the man settling easily into his arms. “Hey, there, cutie. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Quentin sighs, eyes a little lidded in the way he gets when he’s drunk. “We did shots in the limo. Harriet’s idea, don’t tell Julia’s mom.”

Eliot laughs, taking Quentin’s weight and steadying him. “I won’t, I promise. You’ve got a little lipstick, just here.” Unable to fight the smile on his own face, he reaches up to gently rub the stain of dark red off Quentin’s lip. “Bambi’s shade is not your shade, darling.”

“She looks so pretty,” Quentin says, all earnest, big brown eyes wide. “And you, too. You look _so good_ , El.”

Eliot preens a little, because damn right he does. He’d dressed to look good next to Margo’s red _and_ Quentin’s burgundy, and that was a feat of costuming brilliance he deserved to be appreciated for. He slides his fingers up into Quentin’s hair, petting it back into place, feeling the soft strands under his fingertips as they move together. Quentin’s eyes go sharp the way they always do when someone starts playing with his hair, like a puppy with his ears perking up, and Eliot just— has to lean down and kiss him, his lips soft and sweet and champagne-flavored when Eliot licks out against him. 

Quentin looks a little stunned when Eliot pulls back, wrapping Quentin’s left hand in his right and settling it against his chest so they can sway together.

“Marry me?” Quentin murmurs, brow furrowing with the sincerity of the question, earnest even in his tipsiness. 

“Baby, we are married,” Eliot reminds him, petting his thumb across the body-warm metal of the wedding band on Quentin’s left hand, tucked in against his chest.

“Oh yeah,” Quentin whispers, eyes welling up a little as he looks up into Eliot’s face. “I’m so lucky.”

“You’re so drunk,” Eliot laughs, looping Quentin more securely into his arms. “Switch to water for a little bit, okay?”

“Yes, Dad,” Quentin grumbles, petulant, dropping his face down to rest against Eliot’s collarbones. He’s not a bad dancer, when he’s not over thinking it, mostly because he follows Eliot’s lead beautifully. But, well— That’s very Quentin, isn’t it, beautifully able to be lead? Eliot could hold him and spin him around this dance floor all night, and he’d just look up with those big trusting eyes— that open honest heart. It had scared Eliot so much at first that he’d almost lost the chance to have this at all. 

“Our wedding wasn’t like this,” Eliot says, softly, resting his cheek against Quentin’s hair. “Do you ever wish we’d had a big party?”

Quentin seems to think about it, then he shakes his head. “No. I got what I wanted, I got to get married with Dad there. It would’ve— he wouldn’t have made it, if we’d had to plan something like this.”

“Yeah.” The grief that had colored the first year of their marriage grips at Eliot now, but— He’s glad for it too, that they’d gotten to have Ted there with them. 

“What about you? Do you regret not having the party?”

“Courthouse wedding was always fine with me, baby,” Eliot murmurs, swaying them a little out of the path of a pair of dancing grandparents. “Not like I’ve got a big family to appease. Margo and Ted and Julia were plenty for me. I just wanted to be married to you, after everything. I mean, I almost blew it, Q. I couldn’t believe you took me back, and I just—I just wanted you to know I was all in, forever. I still want that.”

“Mmhm,” Quentin agrees, dragging them to a stop so he can push up on unsteady toes, kiss at Eliot’s mouth with soft lips and tongue. “You like a party, though.”

“I do like a party,” Eliot agrees, indulgent, getting them moving again. “Tell you what, we’ll do a five-year anniversary party, make everyone travel somewhere remote and buy us gifts.”

“That sounds fun,” Quentin mutters, resting his cheek back down against Eliot’s chest. “I won’t be in the middle of defending a thesis, either. That’ll be nice.”

“Not being in academia anymore in general is super nice.”

Quentin snorts, squinting up at him. “That’s all well and good for _you_.”

“You’re the one who decided to pursue a doctorate—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quentin grumbles, tugging his hand out of Eliot’s so he can clasp them behind Eliot’s back, leaving Eliot to hug his shoulders. “Whatever, you like that I’m a nerdy English professor.”

“I do like that,” Eliot agrees with a sigh. They share a beat of comfortable silence, swaying together as the song winds to a close, a little bubble of virtual privacy in the crowd of dancers. Tipping his face down, Eliot breathes in the scent of Quentin’s hair, still lingering with the product Eliot had helped him put in it this morning. Quietly, he murmurs, “A party would be fun.”

He can feel Quentin’s smile, the pressure of his cheek against the cloth of Eliot’s vest. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm. An excuse to get a new suit? Can’t pass that up.”

“Sure, naturally.”

“Plus, you know— I’d get to make everyone listen to me talk about how much I like you, so that’d be fun.”

Quentin snorts, arms tightening around Eliot’s waist. “Yeah, no one knows you like me. They’re really wondering about it.”

“Besides, what is the _point_ of working hospitality management if not to be able to get killer deals on a wedding venue.”

“Great, I’m sure Julia’s so glad you brought those skills to bear on her wedding.”

“Listen, not even I can manage something that would please Mrs. Wicker.” Quentin snickers, pulling back to smile up at Eliot, all dimples and the crinkles around his eyes. He looks really good, happy and tipsy like this. Thirty is sitting well on Quentin so far, settling into him like the contentment of sinking into a comfortable bed. Heart in his throat, Eliot cups the side of Quentin’s head, thumb brushing out against his cheekbone. “Let’s have a party to celebrate how much we love each other. That sounds great.”

“It does sound great,” Quentin mutters back, turning his face to nuzzle into Eliot’s hand, placing a kiss against his palm. “Five years? Gives us a couple years to plan.”

“Five years,” Eliot agrees. “We’ll talk about it again when you’re sober, okay?”

“M’kay,” Quentin agrees, always so willing to be led. Eliot loves him _so damn much_. “Are you having a good time? Sorry I haven’t seen you much tonight.”

“I always have a good time with Bambi,” Eliot assures him, petting him a little just because he likes it, because it makes him smile. 

“Hm, you should come sit with me, though. Steal Mackenzie’s seat, I don’t want to sit next to her anyway.”

Quentin doesn’t actually have the power to evict the bridesmaid, as it turns out, but that doesn’t stop them. Settling down to sit with Quentin perched in his lap isn’t exactly a hardship, especially when he’s happy and talkative. Julia and Kady manage to escape making the rounds long enough to actually come back and eat some of the food the Wickers are paying for, and it is nice to get to talk to them. Eliot’s barely seen them all weekend, both of them rushing around trying to keep the train on the tracks and put out fires. They both look happy, though, a certain kind of excited glow about them. Looking at them, Eliot feels for a moment like he can see his future; not just a couple years from now, but ten, twenty, thirty years— Eliot and Quentin, Q’s best friend and her wife. This... this is what having family means. Julia will always be in Quentin’s life, just as Margo will always be in Eliot’s. There’s something wonderful in that certainty. 

Smiling, Eliot squeezes his arms around Quentin’s waist, dropping a kiss against the back of his neck above the collar of his shirt. Quentin’s hand finds his in response, left hands folding together over his stomach as he chats with Julia, the body-warm metal of their rings pressing together.

It is a damn good party, all things considered.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found as portraitofemmy on most places, but check me out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/portraitofemmy) and [tumblr](https://portraitofemmy.tumblr.com/). Thanks for reading!


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